Potions, Take Two
by Solte
Summary: Never known for being one of Hogwarts' stellar students, Harry's notoriety landed him in the position to be a particular bane in the existence of a certain Potions Master. Add Neville Longbottom to the equation and watch the mayhem unfold! NOT HP/LB


**Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters belong to J.K.R. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Disaster Struck at Nine**

By

Solté

"You have got to be _kidding _me… I mean, come on. The guy's _'sanctuary of peace and quiet'_ has been desperate for a makeover for decades, if not _centuries_! I did him a _favor_! But does he say 'Thanks'? No. Instead I'm stuck with detention and ext-"

"Mr. Potter, _if _you insist on continuing with you insane chatter you are aiming at your desk, then I will have to insist that the Headmaster send you to St. Mungo's for a thorough and _lengthy_ psychiatric evaluation. Perhaps then we would be able to derive some explanation as to _why_ you see completely and utterly incapable of brewing the simplest of potion! Now, _if _you don't mind following me we shall begin your extra lessons the Headmaster seems to think might actually benefit you." Severus Snape cut an imposing figure as he strode from the empty classroom, Harry towed along in the vacuum of his wake.

The scene that had played its self out in the 9:00am Potions Lessons earlier that morning, forever etched into Neville Longbottom's jinxed dysfunctional Remember All, had been a disaster of such epic proportions that the Potions Master could still see the events unfolding in slow motion before his horror struck eyes. The too quiet classroom full of diligent students, complete epitome of the _calm before the storm_, was too much temptation for the Fates, nosy Bitches all three. The potion had been technique intensive but relatively upfront and simple. _'Fool proof_', he'd thought, wretched thought that it had been. He'd failed to take into consideration that both Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were to attend his classes when he'd compiled his class syllabus for the year.

His mistake of inattention had become glaringly obvious when he'd seen Longbottom hand Potter a purple vial instead of the cobalt blue one that he was supposed to have retrieved from the supply closed. Only his quick reaction of casting a strong protection charm over the students stopped the noxious and corrosive cloud that billowed out of the caldron from filling the student's lungs. As it was, the fumes of the ruined potions had an adverse effect on all cellulose based objects in the lab causing the benches, desk, and tables to decompose before his very eyes. It wasn't till Pansy Parkinson's shrill scream echoed around the demolished classroom that he realized that the students robes themselves were made of all natural fibers and were beginning to show signs of being eaten away as well. The mad panicked dash of over two dozen nearly naked students careening through the halls had sent the portraits in an uproar and the Potions Professor counted his small blessings that most undergarment were not solely made of cotton

In light of the incident Professor Dumbledore had seen fit to issue both Potter and Longbottom to extra potions classes to be administered by Professor Snape in lue of detention served with Filch. Thus Severus Snape found himself leading Harry Potter down into his own domain for their first session. He'd save Longbottom for a later date.

"It has come to my attention, Mr. Potter, that you have a severely degraded learning capacity and that _normal _teaching techniques simply rebound off your thick skull," said Snape as he stalked deeper into the bowls of the castle. "There for, I propose to take an alternate approach to potions brewing that should penetrate even _your_ thickness," said the professor cruelly.

Harry followed along behind the Snape pulling gruesome faces and making rude gestures within the long full sleeves of his school robes. He had much rather been studying with Hermione and Ron in the library then trekking down to the dank, dingy dungeons: He smiled for a moment before scowling to himself. _Really_, feeling proud of himself for stringing three words together correctly in an amusing way _was_ rather juvenile. There was a flicker in the back of his mind that maybe, just _maybe_, he'd been acting childish in his blatant inattention in his Potions class but his dislike for Snape was so great that it smashed the traitorous thought to smithereens before it could fully fledge.

Harry noticed a damp chill in the air and took note of his location; Slytherin territory. "Professor, I didn't know there were classrooms down here."

"They have made a great many books _filled_ with the things of which you do not know _Potter_," growled Snape. "For your information, we are not going to be holding your extra lessons in a classroom. I am much too busy to spend my evenings tutoring an ingrate. Therefore, you are coming to me. I expect you down here every evening after you last class, I have your class schedule so I'll _know _if you dawdle." Snape paused beside an old tapestry and studied it for a moment before tracing a random pattern across it and sweeping it aside to reveal a door. Once through he turned on Harry.

"While you are in my rooms, Mr. Potter, you will remember that this is _not _your house common room and that I will expect you to comport yourself with respect for me and my personal space and effects. You are not welcome and I will not hesitate to make your lessons as miserable as possible if you insist on annoying me. Are we clear, Mr. Potter?" Snape towered over Harry in an imposing manner and glared down at him in a disapproving manner. "Well?"

"Yes professor, I understand," Harry gritted out between his teeth before looking around. The common area that they were standing in was surprisingly comfortable with thick cushioned chares, deep couches and warm rugs. "Since I'll be studying up on potions why are we not in a lab, professor?"

"Because I cannot trust you not to bring the whole castle down the next time you step up to a caldron, _that's_ why, Mr. Potter."

Harry scowled. "Then why are we here if I'm not going to practice potions?" he demanded in an increasingly frustrated tone.

"Because we are going back to basics, Mr. Potter; the very basic," said Snape as he led Harry through another doorway into a room dominated by a large, scared, wooden table.

"But I already took basic potion brewing in First Year, I can't see what good it will do, going back over it _now_."

"When I say basics, Mr. Potter, I am referring to the most fundamental of all brewing possesses. Every evening until I see fit to say otherwise, you are going to learn to _cook_.

* * *

**AN: **This is my first HP fic EVER and I'd appreciate feedback immensely! I'm not sure how long this fic will be but I know that if it turns into anything of substantial length and if it has any notes of romance it will be **SLASH**. I prefer to be open-minded when it comes to any couples that may be developed but I'm open to suggestions although I'm not a big HP/NL fan so while he will be in this story, Neville is not going to be one of the 'love interests'. As of right now I do not have a beta so please bare with any mistakes I make. At this time the story will be rated **M **but it may take a while to get there. R&R - Solté


End file.
